


Leitmotif

by Tsukiko Hoshino (Ophiras)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, F/M, Musical References, Operas, Sorry Mebuki, Victorian era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27900859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophiras/pseuds/Tsukiko%20Hoshino
Summary: There was some music so great and terrible that it consumed all those who heard it. Love, Sasori would later decide was exactly like that. For he was bound to love her from the moment he heard her sing.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Sasori
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Leitmotif

Sakura’s dreams had never included being on stage. Singing was an enjoyable pastime but it had never been her passion, the calling in her heart--that had been medicine. She was enthralled by numbers and figures, with the science of how the body worked and the ever advancing knowledge of ailments and their cures. It was a difficult path to be sure given the time that she lived in, but not an impossible one. Her brief foray into music and fame had been for the sake of her father and the memory of her mother, nothing more.  
  
 _I only want for the world to hear how beautiful your voice is, your mother loved it so._ He’d sighed, looking wane and weak in the year following her mother’s passing. The strong arms she had known in her youth seemed so thin and brittle, the bottomless depths of her father’s good cheer drained away like the color from his hair. If ever a man could die of a broken heart it would have been him. ‘I am too young to be an orphan. Though truly, there is no _good_ age for such a thing.’ Still, she was only 19 and the thought frightened her as much as the thought of being without a mother at 17 had.   
  
Summer fell and Kizashi’s condition only worsened with the passing of time. There was in her mind but one thing to do. “Wait a little while longer.” Sakura begged in a desperate bid as she sat by the side of his bed one autumn afternoon. “I will be on the stage before you know it.” If no medicine could cure what ailed him perhaps hope would be the best suited treatment.  
  
“An awfully gutsy proclamation to make. You’re a bit old to be entering the arts and you’ve hardly had any training.” Tsunade had tsked when the door was shut behind them.   
  
The bustle of Sakura’s dress demanded that the older woman give her space to pace. “I’ve had some vocal lessons--Mother was very insistent on being ‘ _well rounded_ ’ _and_ I took ballet with Ino as a child, she’s working at the Imperial Theater now.” And if she recalled correctly, so did a distant cousin of her childhood friend. “I’ve already written to her and as it so happens there is room in the chorus--apparently they’ve been having trouble keeping people on staff since the place went up.” The theater had only been in operation for five years but she hardly had time to consider what that trouble was all about. “And I’ve been granted an audition.” It was hardly a starring role but even a minor part was a step in the right direction.   
  
“That's no guarantee you’ll be accepted...and the arts have never been your interest.” Tsunade knew the girl had a lovely voice to be sure but in Sakura she saw the same spark that had driven her in her own youth. ‘And none of it has ever been directed at arias or cavatinas.’ As it stood, female doctors were a rarity due to difficulties in procuring an education and the training necessary. ‘Not to mention public sentiment and just plain lack of interest.’ But Sakura had set herself through the paces and was at the top of her classes at the nation’s only medical college for women. “And what of your studies?”   
  
Pausing in her roundabout, Sakura sighed and gave a wane smile. “I’ll simply have to put them on hold. What else can I do?” she asked, reaching out to grasp Tsunade’s well manicured hands. “You would do the same, I’m sure.” The faint wrinkles at the corner of her instructor's eyes seemed deeper than before.   
  
“If you still intend to be a doctor you should be wary of sacrificing too much of yourself in order to save another.” The pioneer warned, patting the back of the hand that clasped her own. “I’ll watch over him in your stead.” If she could have saved the lives lost to her by simply belting out a few notes before a crowded hall, Tsunade too would have done it in an instant. “It’s a gamble.” And she knew all too well how those tended to turn out. ’I’ll have to write to Jiraiya to keep an eye out for her.’   
  
It was one that Sakura would simply have to take as she rolled the proverbial dice, leaving where they led to the whims of fate and praying as most did that fortune would favor her endeavor. Within the week she was walking through the less glamorous backhalls of the theater, escorted by her more than enthusiastic friend.   
  
“This will be wonderful!” Ino proclaimed, carrying the only other bag Sakura had brought with her. “Well, not the circumstances that brought you here of course but I will find myself terribly happy if you have cause to stay, at least for a while--watch out!” She advised, ducking beneath a rolled up backdrop that was being carried off. The backbone of the theater, the part which the patrons never saw was like a hive of bees, constantly abuzz as seamstresses, set designers, and stagehands moved at a frantic pace, each consumed with the effort of setting up the little world they were tasked with giving life to.  
  
Sakura could not help but be stunned by the whirl of colors she was surrounded by and paused to gape at a large, mechanical elephant being pulled on wheels. The abrupt stop almost got her trampled by a gaggle of women in tulle skirts and seeing the growing gap between her guide and herself she scurried a little quicker to follow in her friend’s footsteps. “When exactly is the audition?”   
  
“Today of course! It's where I’m taking you now.” Ino explained, beginning to shove herself a clear path up the spiral steps she was scaling. “You don’t don't want to be late…” she said, sounding almost ominous.  
  
“Hey!” A man with hair longer than was appropriate complained when his back hit the rail due to Ino’s shoulder ramming into his chest. “If you’re going to kill me, at least do it in a more interesting way, un!”   
  
Ino only rolled her eyes. “I don’t have time to worry about you falling to your death, Deidara.” She said, grabbing Sakura by the hand. “I have to get her on stage.”   
  
Deidara’s lone eye slid from his cousin to the woman she was now dragging along. “Some friend you are, un. You’d think you would have warned her away, not escorted her right into the devil's den.” He didn’t care at all that he was creating a jam within a main artery of traffic as he turned, fighting to follow after them, teeth barred in a maniacal grin. “Didn’t she tell you about the ghost?” If there was one thing he loved more than pyrotechnics it was being a terror, something he held in common with their phantom tyrant of the arts.   
  
Sakura’s feet tried to plant her fast to the last step she was on, her head whipping back to glance behind her. “Ghost?” It was silly given the profession she aspired to but she was rather superstitious about such things.   
  
“Don’t listen to him, he _likes_ scaring people.” Ino jerked her arm, forcing Sakura up the last step. “No backward glances,” she advised. “I told the concertmaster you would be singing Dido’s Lament.” She took the second suitcase and set it off to the side, sparing a few moments to adjust pink, windswept locks into something a bit more orderly. “Hm.” She pinched at the woman’s cheeks, ignoring the disgruntled squeal the treatment received. [1]  
  
Deidara laughed, head thrown back. “You should have picked something else, un.” Something happier. ‘That one loves a tragedy.’ And any song or act involving such melancholy would come under _double_ the scrutiny, not that their resident micromanager would let any detail go uncriticized. ‘It's a wonder anyone here has a job.’ Sometimes he thought Sasori didn’t actually _want_ people on stage, he just wanted to live beneath the most opulent one that he could find. ‘And obviously that could only be one _he_ designed.’   
  
Before Sakura could inquire as to why, a woman burst into the wings and finding that there was something vaguely familiar about the sight of her, she couldn’t help but stare.   
  
Flicking a strand of crimson hair from her cheek the woman huffed indignantly. “Did you hear what that...that _devil_ said to me?” There was an undercurrent of constrained fury beneath her composed demeanor, seen most notably in the way that her edge of her painted lips twitched periodically.   
  
Of the two men that followed in her wake, the elder made the rather unwise decision to answer her rhetorical question, scratching the back of his neck lazily. “Yea, he said; It’s no wonder you’re unmarried with that vo--” The fan she’d been tapping against her thigh caught him by the neck with a brutal chop and he went sprawling to the floor.   
  
“How dare you say that to me!” Realizing that she had an audience she quickly composed herself, smiling demurely from behind her fan. “My, please do forgive me for such an unsightly display. What an awful way for me to make a first impression, you should have warned me Chōjūrō.”   
  
“A-apologies Lady Mei.” He pushed his glasses up nervously, glancing at his fallen comrade with something akin to pity.   
  
“Our leading Soprano and her assistants.” Ino whispered as an aside.   
  
That perfectly explained the sense of familiarity Sakura couldn’t quite shake. ‘Little wonder too.’ The face before her had been painted on numerous posters over the last few years--often bedecked in ostentatious costumes. Finding herself unsure of the proper protocol when it came to meeting someone famous, she could really only stare wide eyed. “It’s a pleasure,” It was probably a bit early to be deciding that but civility as her mother had once said, cost nothing.   
  
“You say that _now_.” The man who’d previously been sprawled on the floor complained, brushing some imaginary dust of his jacket. “Give it a day or two.”   
  
“Ao…Careful now.” Mei said, slapping her fan shut against the palm of her hand, delighting in the way it made him flinch. “If you’re smart you’ll turn around and scurry right out of this...this madhouse quick as you can!” She turned her gaze straight to Ino. “You haven’t told her anything at all, have you?” That, in her opinion, was the only excuse for the stunned look in the girl’s green eyes.   
  
Frowning to herself, Sakura noted that it was at _least_ the second time someone had hinted that there was something rather...disturbing going on. “Is this place really haunted?” she wondered, turning her eyes up towards the rafters.   
  
“H-has been ever since the place opened!” Chōjūrō’s proclamation seemed to surprise even him. “Ropes that were once secure, cut. Prop pieces getting altered in the night...or j-just plain disappearing.”   
  
Ao, who’d been crossing his arms off to the side discretely rolled his eyes and grumbled about stutterers. “The mysterious shadow seen in box 3 but gone in the next blink. Or seen up on the scaffolding when no one is supposed to be there.”   
  
“And the letters.” Ino whispered against Sakura’s side.  
  
“Forget the letters! The _voice_!” Mei snapped. “Sounding like it's everywhere and nowhere, knowing things it _shouldn’t_ know...And it says such _rude_ things! Why, it's little wonder the managers pay it every month if only to earn some respite from its venomous barbs.” And worse.  
  
“A salary?” Sakura found herself wondering what a ghost would need money for. ‘It's not as though it has to eat or dress itself.’ Superstitious was _not_ the same as gullible. ‘Perhaps even the dead can’t escape taxes.’ The thought amused her at least.   
  
“Quite a sum too.” Ao complained. “He makes more money than I do, the same amount as the damn managers in the vague hope he won’t drop another backdrop on the ballerinas.”   
  
Ino visibly shuddered at the reminder.   
  
Deidara wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. ‘She wasn’t even on stage for that.’ She’d been standing in the wings flirting with some painter at the time. “You’d think the body would be more concerning than all of that, un.” He watched with delight as they all gave a collective wince at the reminder.  
  
Sakura’s head turned in Ino’s direction. “You never mentioned anything about a body!”   
  
“Well the police said it was suicide!” Ino replied and then whispered in after thought. “Probably driven mad by the phantom...”   
  
“If it's so awful why on earth do you stay?” A perfectly logical question on Sakura’s part and an innocent one at that.   
  
To Mei, the suggestion was more abhorrent than being frequently insulted during rehearsals. “What sort of _artiste_ would I be if I let some uppity-up jumped ghost run _me_ off?” Her pride simply could not bear it. “I’ll stay put right where I am if only out of _spite_.”   
  
That was a motivation that Sakura could wrap her head around, what she didn’t understand was why Ino stayed. ‘Or why she didn’t warn me in the first place.’ They wrote frequent letters back and forth but other than mentioning vague troubles nothing had been said of a ghost. In fact she was beginning to think the whole thing was a bit of hazing on their part. “Are you putting me on?” If they were just trying to make her nervous there would be hell to pay one way or another.  
  
“I’m personally offended you think I’d go through the trouble of all that, even if it were for _you_ Forehead.” Ino scowled and proceeded to shove her out on stage. “Break a leg!”  
  
The phrase was meant as an exaltation of good luck but it didn’t feel very lucky as she got a good look at the cavernous auditorium towering ever up from all around her. ‘Oh.’ Sakura, in her rush to bring some cheer and lift her father’s spirits, had failed to account for a bad case of the nerves. Standing on stage, even in front of a mostly empty auditorium she felt so small. ‘What if I’m so bad I can’t even get into the chorus?’ Then the trip would have been for nothing and her poor father was just going to waste away. ‘And I took an entire year off my studies for this!’   
  
“You said she could sing, un.”  
“She can!”   
“The sound of silence, however sweet one might find it doesn’t count...”  
“I-its only been a few minutes…”  
“Stage fright, what a thing for a performer to have.”  
  
In the wings, the whisperings of an impromptu greek chorus echoed almost endlessly in the space between her ears but Sakura’s eyes were drawn up as if by their own accord. Closest to the stage, above the arches of the private boxes the masks of tragedy and comedy were held aloft in the exquisitely carved hands of their muses. It was inevitable that her gaze went higher still, towards the domed roof where the chandelier and its multitudes of glittering crystals hung. Distantly, she heard the sound of keys being struck and turned her attention towards more earthly concerns.   
  
“ _Ahem_.” The man at the piano was waiting for a reply to something he’d asked, to which he only received a succinct reply of _huh?_ From the stricken young woman standing on the empty stage. Haruno, yes?” Without so much as a _by your leave miss_ he began to play again.  
  
The sudden start had Sakura tongue tied, lips scrambling for the words her mind already knew. She cringed as the first words fell, nearly a stuttered, flat whisper. ‘Pretend you’re not where you are.’ In a memory with no one to hear her but her father and in the better days of yore; her mother. ‘Yes.’ She thought, voice rising more confidently than before. She let the opulence and splendor fall away beneath the curtain of her lids. She was at home again, a place now stained with worry and the pervasive grief of her father, a sentiment that bled through her voice, echoing up over the auditorium.   
  
A ghost with keen ears sat in the shadow of the muses as the voice drifted up towards the eaves. It was not perfect by any means; sweet but raw and unrefined. Even so, he sat up straighter, wondering at what it was within the cadence of her song he found unplaceable. Vocally, it was simply not as strong as the other soprano’s and yet no matter how many nights Mei sang at perfect pitch he’d only ever felt a pervasive sense of boredom to hear it. For all her years of experience and technical training, the woman’s voice lacked some quality he’d never been able to define.   
  
The concertmaster, after a brief moment of consideration seemed to agree and jotted down a note next to her name and held out a sealed packet, rattling on about the coming shows of the season--rehearsal times and the like. It was the last of the scheduled auditions and he was eager to be gone.  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief Sakura snatched her papers and quickly scurried back into the safety of the wings, eager to be rid of the thought that there was an audience full of invisible eyes fixated on her every move.  
  
“A bit rusty.” Ino teased, beaming proudly in the _I-told-you-so way_ among her peers.   
  
Deidara didn’t have a mind for music, not truly--he was in the business for the _effects_ and not much more but even to his untrained ears it hadn’t been the worst aria he’d ever heard from a hopeful auditioner. “Still sounds better than you do at any time of day, un. It's a good thing you’re a dancer and not a singer. We should all play to our talents.” he said, earning himself a cousinly kick to the shin.   
  
Mei hummed thoughtfully and leaned closer, catching the bottom of the girl’s chin with a gentle tap of her fan. “Dear, with a good coach and a bit of training you could indeed be something special! A pretty voice can carry one far to be sure but without the proper technique you’ll damage it.” She advised. “Such an instrument should be well cared for.”   
  
Flushing, Sakura nodded her head. “I don’t even know where to begin.” she admitted. “Truly I’m not much of a performer…I never intended to be.”   
  
“You just rolled out of bed one morning and decided to take to the stage? Kids these days; flakes, the lot of them.” Ao’s eyes threatened retribution when Chōjūrō meekly pointed out that there were days that his senior showed up late to his job hung over from the night before.  
  
‘If only it were that simple.’ Sakura thought because the truth of it all was that she simply hadn’t known what to do when science failed her. ‘Medicine cannot cure a sickness of the soul.’ And try as she might no amount of comforting words and tight embraces seemed a good enough balm. Kizashi would smile and laugh here or there, but then as if reminded of his loss all the lights would blow out and a prolonged hush would fall over him.   
  
“Not that it's any of your business but she’s not here for _herself_. Sakura is going to be a doctor someday.” Of that Ino had no doubt. “It's just that her father...he’s been a widow for over a year now and he’s not adjusting very well.” The man she’d known in her youth had been quite large, in both personality and stature but the last time she had seen him he’d become worryingly gaunt. “Her mother had dreams of her being on stage...and now they are his too.”   
  
Condolences had become a dreadful commonality in Sakura’s life of late but she took them in graceful stride knowing that despite their repetitive and often grating nature, they were ultimately well meant. ’And it's better to accept them rather than lapsing into awkward silences.’   
  
“How,” Deidara began, finding it odd that he was left to be the voice of reason--he hated it, it felt icky. He endeavored to never do it again. “Do you expect for your daddy to hear when you’re just girl number 7 in the chorus? It's impossible to pick a single voice out of it, un.” At least not unless one bordered on preternatural abilities.  
  
Sakura’s face crumbled as the fatal flaw within her plan became apparent, unraveling her already tenuous confidence like a badly knit scarf. “Oh no…”  
  
“It's not impossible, there are secondary characters with solo’s.” Despite Mei’s encouraging words everyone seemed to grimace. “And she could very well end up with a leading role later in the season...” Unlikely as it seemed at the moment, she was currently in good health and things were not so dire as to cast someone who had essentially just walked in off the streets. ‘And of course there is the matter of that hellion…’ On some days she thought the ghost’s company was preferable to Kin’s.  
  
It never failed to amuse Deidara that one of the people Sasori so desperately tried to run off was either too stubborn or too dumb to take a hint. Sometimes he thought the managers, Jiraiya and Orochimaru were keeping Kin around like bait--a haunted opera seemed to thrill patrons even more than a well sung one. ‘One thing is for sure, it isn’t for her acting.’ And her singing wasn’t much better. “You’d better be careful of that one, un.”  
  
“Of who?” Sakura asked, brows raised. “The ghost?”   
  
“Kin.” They all replied in unison, only deepening her confusion.   
  
“Well, you’ve a year and there is so much to do.” Ino picked up the suitcases she’d set aside and shoved the both of them into her cousin’s chest until he had the decency to pick them up if only to prevent himself from being bruised. “You’ll be staying with us. It's a bit crowded but we’ll make do...and if needed we can kick him,” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Out onto the streets. It’d probably improve the way he smells anyways.”  
  
“Hey!” Deidara complained, suitcases tucked under his arms. “I told you that smell is from the sulfur used in…” But Ino didn’t care to hear a word of it and he was forced by the silent threat of being denied dinner if he did not politely follow along. Instead, the entire 20 minute walk to the little flat Ino and he shared was spent listening to the two of them chatter like little girls. It bored him immensely. More than once he dropped a suitcase in the gleeful hope that there might have been something fragile inside, to get an instantaneous reaction akin to a firework popping off.   
  
After the 3rd drop, Sakura whirled around, shot him with a threatening look and plucked the case off the ground. “If you didn’t want to carry them you could have just said so.” She found it better not to risk her luggage in his hands anymore. ‘Not unless I want my knickers and slippers thrown all over the street.’ And she _didn’t._ In the act of retrieving her second suitcase, she paused to utter a thank-you, remembering her manners in the same breath that she elbowed him in the ribs.   
  
Deidara found himself begrudgingly impressed by the display of upper body strength. ‘Such boney elbows though.’ He would later decide that her strength was proportionate to the amount she ate, It was really the only thing that made sense given her slim frame.   
  
The season lasted from September to June of the following year, with over 20 productions ranging from plays, operas, ballets and concerts. There were rehearsals and fittings and Sakura found herself rather grateful she’d kept up with practicing the basics she’d learned in ballet class all those years ago as a form of exercise. Still, she wasn’t used to the rigorous practice schedule and the first 2 week were grueling, made worse by her first run in with the infamous Kin.   
  
Mei was kind, if not perpetually busy with a broad range of pursuits that seemed to span from the political to the romantic variety. “Anyone who says you can either have love or a career is selling you short.” She said, after running Sakura through a vocal exercise. “No one bats an eye when a man with an illustrious career wants to settle down and get married before he’s too ol--” She decided not to finish pronouncing the word. “Breathing from the chest produces a broader, more powerful sound. Even with the structure of the opera house aiding acoustics you can’t expect to be heard in the back if you sing so meekly! The first few lines of Juliet's waltz if you please.” [2]  
  
That one on one attention was probably what put her in Kin’s sights or maybe it was simply something about Sakura that the other woman instinctively disliked but the petty woman didn’t hesitate for a second to interrupt the lesson with a sharp, haughty laugh. The sound stopped Sakura cold, mid-note. “You can’t be serious! Talk about a waste of time. If patrons wanted to hear a yowling cat they could just take a stroll down any back alley or wherever it was she got dragged in from.”  
  
In her younger days those words might have thrown Sakura into a volatile fury but as her mother once said; punching people was considered cute and plucky in a child of 10 or even fifteen but as a grown adult it was frowned upon in polite society. ‘Especially when it's a woman.’ That was a fact that Sakura had to remind herself of more often than she liked. So she simply grit her teeth and smiled through the desire. “There are worse things to be compared to than a cat, I can think of one and it rhymes with _witch_.”  
  
Kin went red as those who had fallen into a hush burst into an amused twitter all at once. If she meant for a rebuttal to reclaim her pride it was lost in the frenzy of people being recalled to the stage and Sakura was all too happy to leave her behind and forget about the whole thing.   
  
“That might have been a mistake.” Ino whispered as they took to their mark.   
  
Pursing her lips, Sakura simply rolled her shoulders and shook out her limbs. “Believe me it was better than the alternative.” Midway through a turn something or rather someone hooked her ankle, sending her off balance. Her elbows and knees took the brunt of the fall, scraping over the hardwood of the stage, it hurt, to say the least. Especially when in the midst of it all someone’s knee struck her in the side hard enough to knock the air out of her lungs.   
  
Worst yet, the fact that she was in an ensemble meant her abrupt collapse caused a pile up for those around her as they sought ways to avoid tripping or trampling over the prone form.   
  
“Stop, Stop, Stop!” The director called, watching as the dancers and the chorus alike devolved into chaos. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and sighed.   
  
Picking herself up off the floor proved more difficult than Sakura would have liked, there was a massive run in her stocking, skin abbrated from shin to knee enough so that the snowy white was spotting pink in places. She was crouched down, still cataloguing the injury and thinking it was all just an accident when a shadow fell over her.   
  
“You can’t sing and you can’t dance.” Kin smirked, the self-satisfaction practically oozing out of every pore in a way that made Sakura’s blood boil. “I guess so far in life you’ve gotten by with other... _talents_.”   
  
Overseeing the events from the very top of the theater, where the shadows were quite deep, Sasori could still make out how every line in the fallen girl’s body went taunt. The words were spoken loud enough that they carried through the auditorium, amplified by design.   
  
“Oh.” Deidara breathed, practically giddy from where he was crouched alongside a figure of Pan. “I hope Sakura beats her, she’s small but feisty. The only thing that could make opera interesting is some real blood, un.” His wrist still hurt from their morning spar over the last pastry--he’d won but only because he licked it even after losing their arm wrestling match.   
  
Amber eyes flicked briefly in his direction, deeply considering the merits of pitching his unwanted companion over the rail and onto the stage stories below. ‘It would certainly be amusing and he’d get the attention and chaos he so desperately craves.’ At least for the 30 seconds it took him to splatter. ‘And I’d finally be free of the annoying presence invading my privacy.’ In retrospect choosing Deidara to deliver his letters and be his intermediary had been a mistake. ‘Kabuto might have been a better option.’   
  
“Admit it, there is nothing you’d like more than a little blood sport.” Deidara grinned, arm thrown over the neck of his stone companion. Their penchant for violence was probably one of the things that bound them together, their views on art differed wildly. Sasori liked the predictability of plays and operas, Deidara preferred to throw unplanned surprises in and watch the actors scramble to improvise. ‘Nothing like a good, live firework on stage to really get them moving.’   
  
“I would prefer an immaculate performance of Faust.” Which would never happen so long as half the people down below remained employed. There was a moment where it seemed as though the girl would lunge but then she faltered, perhaps due to the ankle she limped on or the timely interference of Deidara’s look-alike. ‘Shame,’ Sasori thought, somewhat disappointed at being deprived of the spectacle. ‘At least then watching this bedlam would have been worthwhile.’ The only reason he occasionally dragged himself up to view rehearsals was so that when opening day came around he’d already acclimated himself to the inevitable disappointment.   
  
Those down below continued on unaware of their audience. “You can’t practice on that.” Ino chided, catching sight of the limp when Sakura moved back to her starting position.   
  
“I can so.” Sakura seethed, face red. The fall was embarrassing enough but the blow to her pride stung twice as bad as her leg. Kin was snickering from her own spot behind her, gleeful in terming her newfound nemesis an _amateur._ ‘Which like it or not I _am_.’ And Sakura hated for the woman to be right about anything in that moment.  
  
Ino held tight when Sakura’s arm jerked in her grip. “Don’t be so easily baited, nothing would please her more...I’ll get Sai to walk you home.”   
  
In the end, Sakura decided that arguing over whether she should continue on or not was probably not in her best interests, not with the way Kin followed her every movement. “I can walk on my own.” Sakura replied after testing the amount of weight she could place on the limb. It hurt but walking it off would probably do her more good than resting it. ‘Not only that but a 20 minute walk with no one but Sai for company might prove even more aggravating when I can’t sprint away.’ The artist wasn’t all bad, he could be endearing in his own way but in her current mood his occasional transgressions would only be amplified.   
  
Midway through collecting her belongings she remembered something her mother would say; _Better to vent your frustrations to God_ , _He’s probably the only one with the patience for all that fussing. ‘_ Well, maybe that's true.’ Sakura recalled that among the nearly endless storage spaces, somewhere in the hidden nooks and alcoves, dressing rooms and the like there was an improvised chapel that Ino had pointed out on the tour days ago. ‘Not that I can recall exactly where…’ The entire building was like a giant labyrinth but she’d set her mind to finding it and her feet followed.   
  
The strained muscle in her leg was, as she’d expected worked out of its kink halfway through her wanderings. “Ha!” Sakura pointed at the unassuming sign she’d nearly missed. “There you are.” It was hard to tell how long she’d been looking but it’d been a while since she’d passed another person in her search. She crossed through the archway that led into a stone grey room with little ornamentation besides a mirror on one of the interior walls, an iron crucifix and several sconces for candles. It was quaint and quiet in the middle of what felt like a storm.   
  
Sakura did not consider herself particularly religious, her mother had been and her grandfather purportedly even more so. ‘That's not to say I’m not respectful.’ Or that she didn’t go through the motions. She certainly believed there was a higher being and design to the universe but a healthy dose of doubt, was just natural. In any case, she settled on her knees and began with a humble request for her father to continue his time on earth but from _there_ she launched into a rather scathing indictment of the day’s events. “Now, I know I shouldn’t hold a grudge over a pastry of all things...but I won it fair and square and it was mine!” There had to be some sort of divine karma awaiting Deidara. ‘At least if there is a just God...’ She blew a lock of hair out of her face.   
  
It was around the time that she began complaining about a pilfered pastry that Sasori, seeking to escape the mess on stage and the one that seemed to follow him everywhere it could passed by the mirror--a clever thing in which those looking in would never see what laid directly beyond it. ‘Although if they ever managed to figure it out they’d likely run afoul of one of the traps down below.’ He couldn’t help but stop to listen, eavesdropping offered a wealth of information about a person.  
  
Praying was a lot like holding a one sided conversation but there was something cathartic about it, even if the book she flipped through was no Bible. “I,” She shook her copy of Treatise on Therapeutics at the humble cross. “Do not sound like an alley cat. Now, I’m not saying that I’m great but we both know that I’m not _that_ bad.” She hummed a few notes to herself, remembering the advice Mei had given her earlier. [3]  
  
The reading material would have been viewed as a curious choice if her medical aspirations had not been revealed somewhere in the verbal spew Deidara had unleashed on him in the last few days, having found something new to complain about. _She yelled at me about washing my hands_ , _can you believe it? The nerve, un._ Sasori begrudged no one for aspiring beyond the conventions of society or entertaining a multitude of interests. What he expected however, was _dedication_ to what one committed themselves to. ‘If she intends to sing in this-- _my_ , opera house then she’d best do it adequately.’ And he would have continued walking, descending to the layers even further below if her humming had not turned to singing.   
  
_Potential._ Maybe that was what stopped him. He liked to take things and change them, _improve_ them. Her voice was good but with the right coaching and practice it could be perfected. ‘And what a sound it would be…’ The unfinished composition sitting on his desk sprang to mind. ‘What better instrument could sing it than one I crafted?’ He took a good long look at her as he considered the possibilities before him. Deidara had called her feisty, stubborn and determined. Her odd colored hair was bound in a braid, but the shorter forelocks framed her face as she hunched over her book. ‘Awful posture for singing.’ He’d have his work cut out for him but nothing worthwhile had ever been easy. ‘Still...’ His head tilted, taking in the sound that spilled in through the walls and glass.  
  
“And another thing!” Sakura tapped a finger against a sentence in her book, pausing abruptly in her impromptu practice when she found that she could not quite let her anger go. “Now I know it's not proper to wish for the suffering of others and that I should pray for her soul…” Her voice lowered into a whisper. “If Kin has a soul,” She coughed and returned to normal pitch. “But I think you’ll agree with me when I say _If_ she just so happened to break a leg, or her nose...it wouldn’t be the worst thing for the world and that _if_ Deidara got food poisoning from that pastry he stole from me, or for not washing his hands…” She trailed off, glancing hopefully at the cross. “Well, I’m just putting it out there.” She gave a dainty shrug.   
  
A test, he decided would be the best way to see if she was worth the time and effort. “And here I thought you were supposed to love and pray for your enemies.” It was an easy trick to make his voice echo and reverberate as though it were more distant than it actually was.  
  
Sakura’s head whipped around so quickly the end of her braid snapped against her shoulder with a _thwack_ , the open book she’d been flipping through was clutched to her chest protectively. It took her a moment to respond as she tried to figure out if she’d simply imagined someone speaking. Tentatively, she opened her mouth to reply, eyes darting about nervously. “Technically, I _am_ praying for my enemies.”  
  
“Yes, to be maimed. But in the _most_ loving manner I’m sure.”  
  
It was hard to tell where the voice was coming from but Sakura was quite sure it wasn’t inside her head. “Pain builds character--or so I’ve been told and Kin could surely use some.” Her grip on the book was white knuckled but she stuck fast to her spot. ‘A rather rude voice.’ She did not quite appreciate having her private conversation intruded upon but impolite as it was, there was something _pleasant_ about it. ‘Ethereal almost.’ Her eyes turned to the cross, narrowed suspiciously.   
  
“I quite agree. It's too bad that sandbag missed her head last season.” An eerie sigh swept over the room and the candles flickered.   
  
‘No.’ Sakura decided immediately that the rather disappointed cadence to its tone regarding attempted murder meant it was far from divine in nature. ’It's more likely to be a demon than an angel.’ She went to her feet and pressed investigative hands against the wall, going inch by inch. ‘So far all it's done is talking.’ And it would take a lot more than that to frighten her into running off. ‘I’ll worry when I start to see things.’ In the meantime she would seek a more logical explanation.  
  
“Little girl, don’t you know what they say about curiosity and the cat?” The voice forewarned.   
  
It may have seemed stupid, patting her hands along the wall but Sakura had a very good reason for doing so. ‘If there is a draft, there could be a compartment.’ Séance’s were popular but fraught with fraud from trick tables to hidden cupboards with people inside. ‘I mean that medium we went to after mother’s passing...well, she was completely off base! Haruno Mebuki knows, _knew_ …?’ She still waffled on the correct tense, unsure of how to refer to the deceased. ’Better than anyone I can’t cook!’ If that had been her mother speaking from the other side she would have worried the whole time that her family was going to starve without her. Her poor father had cried when he realized it wasn’t his wife and she’d had no choice but to squeeze the charlatan’s hand till it popped.   
  
Finding a minor draft along the wall, Sakura followed the direction of the air flow until her fingers touched the frame of the gilded mirror. “That satisfaction brought it back?” She tried to shake and rattle the mirror but it was solidly stuck in place. It was possible that it was simply built into the wall, the grand foyer had several just the same. ‘In fact there are mirrors everywhere in this place…’ She knocked a knuckle against the surface, testing for a hollow space.   
  
Then, candles blew out and it occurred to Sakura far too late that comparing herself in her current predicament to felines and their uncanny survival skills might have been a mistake. ‘Cats have nine lives, I don’t know if I can say the same about myself...’ Her heart thundered in her chest and she took one, faltering step backwards, the heavy book she’d been holding dropped to her feet with a solid thunk.  
  
There, in the dark surface of the mirror was a man dressed in the latest fashion of the time. From the snug waistcoat and tailored slacks to the stiff collar and tie. In the gloom, his hair seemed like the color of spilled wine but besides the odd circumstances of _where_ he was appearing, he might have seemed perfectly normal except for one peculiar thing. ‘A mask...’ It was stark white, leaving only the lower half of his face exposed. She looked behind her and saw nothing and then turned back to the mirror, a thousand questions coursing through her head. ‘Why should a ghost cover their face?’ Sakura wondered, brow pinched. “You certainly have my attention.”  
  
It was the subtle tremor in her voice juxtaposed with the way that she squared her shoulders that solidified Sasori’s decision. “And you mine.”   
  
“And what, _exactly_ would an opera ghost want with a nobody like me?” Unless there was more than one specter running about the theater Sakura was quite sure she was looking at the phantom menace that had everyone so high strung. ‘This place has only been operational in the last five years, how many ghost’s could there possibly be?’

  
The man made a show of appearing disinterested as he checked the time on his pocket watch. “I think you’ll find that our interests are aligned. What could make that viperous woman more miserable than your success?” He examined her reaction from the corner of his eye. “Your voice is good but should you wish to excel you’ll accept my tutelage..”    
  
Pensively, Sakura’s eyes narrowed in on the enigmatic reflection before her. “And what, exactly do you have to offer? Do ghosts carry resumes these days? Letters of recommendation perhaps?” She spied the quirk twitch at the corner of his exposed lips and then they parted and the sound of his voice rising through the crescendo of Faust’s indictment on his own fruitless pursuit of knowledge washed over her. If his voice in conversation had been lovely, the sound of it  _ singing _ was almost divine, Her skin tingled and she could only stare spellbound as the aria came to a close. [4]   
  
“If that's not proof enough you’ll simply have to commit to a trial period.” Sasori was sure that if she were not presently convinced she would be shortly, he was a master at everything he plied himself too and singing was no exception. ‘I’ve never been a teacher before.’ But he had no doubt that he would perfect that as well.   
  
It took her a moment to shake off the unexpected awe. “I stand by what I said, you’re more likely to be a demon than some run of the mill phantom.” She mumbled after a moment. ‘Or just a strange man with very clever tricks and a beautiful voice.’ But one way or another, Sakura resolved to get to the bottom of things. She was by nature  _ regretfully _ inquisitive.   
  
“You never said that.” It would not have been the first time he’d been referred to as such a creature but Sasori was quite sure the words had never left her mouth.    
  
“Well,” Sakura gave a dainty shrug. “I certainly thought it.” She said, hands finding their way to her hips. “I will not, under  _ any _ circumstances be selling you my soul. If this is some sort of Faustian bargain it's a solid  _ no _ from me.” Any such deal was doomed to end in tragedy, even if made with the purest of intentions like saving one’s father. ‘Being well read comes with the benefit of being genre savvy.’   
  
“Luckily for the both of us I find them to be completely useless.” Sasori replied flatly. “No, What I want from you is a favor.” If she thought him a demon or a ghost it suited him fine and he saw no reason to correct the notion.    
  
Green eyes flicked back and forth as she carefully considered the usual requests supernatural beings made. ‘I’d be completely foolish if I didn’t cover all the possibilities and my mother didn’t raise an idiot…’ Sakura wrinkled her nose. “To be clear I will not be murdering anyone for you...or giving away any children.” Her own or otherwise.   
  
“If one wants someone dead it's usually best to do it by their own hand. I look at children the same way I look at souls; vastly overrated and more often than not; annoying.” Sasori couldn’t recall a child he didn’t dislike on sight even when he’d been a boy and that animus seemed to apply equally to every adult he’d met.    
  
It alarmed her somewhat that he spoke so easily of murder. ‘On the other hand this entire situation is... _ odd  _ to say the least.’ And he simply could have had an unorthodox sense of humor. Honestly it spoke to her desperation that Sakura was willing to agree in the first place. Of course she wanted to see Kin squirm with misery but more than that she wanted-- _ needed,  _ to breath some light back into her father. ‘And soon.’ Time was key and in her estimation she had very little of it. “I only have a year.”   
  
The man scoffed. “Provided you’re dedicated and can adequately follow my instructions I’d say we need less than that. I won’t go easy on you.” He had exacting standards and he wouldn’t give unearned praise.   
  
“Who asked you to? In fact I would be insulted if you did.” Sakura huffed and snatched her book up off the floor, beating away whatever filth it might have accumulated in its short exile. “You see, I don’t believe in doing things  _ halfway _ . If I’m going to do something then I should do my very best.” He was arrogant, that much was clear to her but perhaps it was not an unearned sort of pride which made it at the very least tolerable. “And what shall I call you?” It was a not-so-subtle prod for information. “How can I take lessons from a complete stranger?”    
  
There was only one other person in the whole city that knew his name, his real one at least--perhaps even in the entire country and he deeply regretted that it was Deidara. ‘And if he hadn’t been nosing around in my papers he never would have figured it out…’ He could have told her anything he wanted, there were a 100 pseudonyms on the tip of his tongue and she would never know if it was his real one or otherwise. “Sasori, but you will address me respectfully.”    
  
Unsure whether it was meant to be his last name or his first name, she decided it was peculiar either way. ‘Well, what about this entire situation isn’t strange?’ Sakura thought, tucking her book beneath her arm as she properly introduced herself.    
  
It didn’t matter, not when he already knew her name. “Then shall we begin, Little Girl?”   
  
Deciding that she was past the point of no return, Sakura simply glowered at him and resisted the temptation to throw her book at his face.    
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This will probably be another 2-3 pieces and then done.
> 
> Super late. This was meant to be for Sasosaku month but lmao around day 23 I was like “I’m tired. -types two words- Yea I think I am just going to disappear for a week or so.-lays in a ditch-” but I seriously fucked up my hands the day before thanksgiving and had blisters everywhere and then did most of the cooking the next day, so yea...a break was warranted. Honestly, I preferred editing smut at my grandma’s house the year before. Somehow less stressful.
> 
> I think it's pretty apparent that I am like...obsessed with musicals lmao. What's not to like? There is music and narrative combined. It’d be hard to name my absolute favorite but I can tell you my least: CATS. This dislike probably stems from the fact that EVERY music class I ever took made us watch CATS on VHS. (Magnify that dislike by like 500% and apply it to the movie and you will be in the ballpark.) I don’t have particularly good feelings about Love Never Dies either, but that is less about music and more about character destruction and plot...the music is good, everything else is bad.
> 
> Honestly, I slept through 90% of all my music classes, which is probably why I can’t read sheet music.
> 
> [1] Dido’s lament, or “When I am Laid in Earth” comes from Henry Purcell’s opera, Dido and Aeneas, which is “based” upon Virgil’s Aeneid which is sort of like a sequel to Homer’s iliad. (Name dropping things all over the place here, my bad.) The Aeneid focuses on Aeneas, who after the fall of Troy goes sailing (he’s got a big destiny to fulfill! He’s gonna be the ancestor of the Romans after all) and after about 6 years he rows his boat up onto the shores of Carthage where he and Dido--the Carthaginian queen (She founded the city after running away from her brother, who murdered her husband.) have a year long love affair.
> 
> In Dido’s mind the two were married, in Aeneas’ not so much...So when the gods said “Yo bro, you gotta get back on the boat!” Good ol’ sailor boy left in the middle of the night without a word. Dido, lovesick and forsaken builds a damn pyre with all the shit he left behind, stabs herself, vows eternal enmity between the Carthaginians and Aeneas’ future romans and dies. This foreshadows the Punic wars, in which Hannibal...well History Made Short: he gave the Romans such a fright they coined the phrase “Hannibal is at the gates!” to describe a coming calamity. Also, big honkin’ war elephants. 
> 
> [2] Juliet’s waltz, from Juliet et Romeo by Gounod ( who also wrote the opera Faust...or one of them.) is sung in French but you can find the lyrics via google...or youtube.
> 
> [3] Treatise on Therapeutics was written by Horatio C. Wood in 1874 and was like a principal textbook for over 30 years when it came to medicine. To somewhat date the time period, it in my mind is taking place between 1880-1890.
> 
> [4] Salut o Mon Dernier Matin or Rien en Vain J’interroge is essentially the introduction to Gounod’s Faust, in which the title character--a doctor and a scholar bemoans his wasted life and attempts suicide twice...sound familiar? He later makes a deal with the devil to regain his youth.
> 
> On the subject of Faust, my favorite character from Shaman King was one of his descendants... Johann Faust’s obsessive devotion to Eliza in retrospect seems pretty reminiscent of how I write Sasori…”My wife is dead so I’m gonna go nuts, carry her bones around and attempt necromancy...also field dissect this kid while he’s still alive because y not?.” Checks out.
> 
> Recommended listening is surprisingly not from POTO but A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder; “Poison In My Pocket.” Sasori would probably really enjoy the premise of a musical based on a man offing his family members one by one...


End file.
